Grass and Jasmine
by ClassicalTorture
Summary: Delusions sometimes are real, and Vaas learns for himself that reality is subjective and philosophical. Will he find what he is looking for with the help of an apple and a lingering memory of a soft touch? No Mary-Sue. Slight OOC


He was so very tired. Sometimes when the rain was coming down on the Rook Island, and the shipments of drugs were late, his head cleared enough to wake up the long-buried thoughts and memories. While his body was shaking and going through withdrawal, making Vaas even more psychotic then usual and assuring the other pirates of their need to crawl into the corners and hide, his subconscious settled. For a few hours, days even if the Gods willed it, the old Vaas Montenegro showed his face, even if in his own mind.

In the times when the skies are crying, the scar on the shaved head aches and burns as if fresh, making the man slap his hands over his ears and scream, hoping to quiet down the voices that climb out of the black abyss that is his psyche. Smudged faces, blurred smiles, lingering memories of warm hands that touch so gently and delicately, a smell of jasmine and grass.

Vaas opened his unseeing eyes and glanced at the fogged figure in front of him, silhouetted in harsh neon lights of his room. Falling on his knees, with a name breathed out and unheard by all, he reached out, crawling a few feet on his knees, and wrapped his arms around the body in front of him. There, kneeling and burying his face in the soft stomach, Vaas cried and screamed profanities, cursing all of the Gods of this island, shouted accusations towards people long gone from this world, and desperately tried to hold on to the form he clutched.

Slowly warm palms lowered on the coarse hair of the kneeling figure and hesitantly swiped over the mohawk. Fingers trailed through the strands, slowly making the ridge loose its shape and fall over the scar. Gently, a fingertip traced the raised skin, leaving a cooling sensation everywhere they touched. As the pain in his head cleared with every touch, the stream of sobs, curses, and incomprehensible babble dribbled to a stop.

Vaas breathed in deep, inhaling the smells that surrounded him. Rain, dirt, sweat... grass and jasmine. Copper eyes opened a bit, looking at the shirt in front of him, head still tingling with the gentle touches being delivered upon it. Leaning forward, chapped lips touched the shirt, pushing until they met flesh as the an reverently kissed and breathed in the sense the very essence of the one in his arms. Shifting his palms a bit, Vaas dug his fingers deeper into the material and indented the warm skin it was covering. Trailing over the back of the figure and relishing at the warmth and contact, the tired man scooted as close as he could, making as much of his body as he could touch the other. Bracketed by the figure's legs, chest pressed against lean thighs, and face practically smothered in the warmth emanating from the other's body, Vaas closed his eyes once more, inhaling the scent, and mouthing lazily at the covered stomach. It has been a very long time since he had felt this peaceful and safe.

Slowly his breathing evened out and his arms slid down, relaxing their hold. As his head tilted, aiming to fall, steady hands held it up, and blue eyes searched the smoothed out features of the usually so very expressive pirate lord. Jason looked at the face of his enemy and couldn't find it in himself to finish the job he had came in to do. Seeing Vaas, the psychotic, philosophical , and unstable man, look at him with clouded eyes and reach for his body as if he was God, Jason could do little else but stand there and let the man crawl towards him, shuddering as strong arms made their move and held him. Listening to Vaas, and seeing his expression, Jason had only hesitated for a bit before giving in and returning the unexpected caress. And seeing the effect it had he wasn't regretting it.

Slowly unwinding Vaas from himself, Jason maneuvered the man onto the tattered couch. Looking around he spied a few sheets in the corner that looked cleaner then the rest and spread them over the mattress in the corner. Glancing at the eyes painted on the wall behind it Jason froze for a bit as something different caught his eye. Crawling over the freshly made bed he inched his way closer to the wall. There, partially hidden by a sticker with a skull was an old and yellowed, partially torn photograph. Jason saw the bottom half of a woman, wearing a red sun dress, with a small boy hugging her legs and smiling towards the camera. He had a little fauxhawk, and the biggest grin on his face. An arm was wrapped around his shoulders, pulling the obviously little Vaas closer to whom Jason presumed to be his mother.

A groan tore the man away from observing the rest, as he swiveled his head to look at the relaxed form on the couch. Vaas was still out o it, but he was frowning now, his mouth forming words that Jason couldn't hear and even if he could he wouldn't understand them. Huffing a bit, the younger man stood up from the bed and made his way towards the sleeping pirate. Gently, and with some strain, after all Vaas wasn't that light, Jason placed him on the bed, and tugged off the other's boots and unbuckled his belt. Jason took his time, making sure to not wake Vaas, as he slid off the white belts around his torso, and unwound the bandages on his arms and fingers. Easing the man back on the few pillows that he saw earlier, Jason covered him with a blanket and stood up.

As he turned around and turned the neon lights off one by one, leaving only a few by the door, Jason was struck by the idyllic scene that he was just a part of. Casting one last glance at the sleeping man, he picked up the bag he dropped as he came in took out an apple, leaving it on the table next to the bandages, and left the room. Just for one night he would be kind to his enemy, for everyone was allowed a moment of weakness.

As Vaas awoke to the hesitant knocks on the door later next day, and with a passing familiarity send whoever it was bothering him somewhere far and unpleasant he was momentarily confused by his surroundings. The harsh glare of the ever turned on neons was almost completely missing, leaving his room to baths only in the soft light of the sun as it filtered through the holes in the walls and roof, and the small window. He looked around. His clothes and boots were neatly piled next to the unexplainably clean bed, his bandages were off dropped at the table, and as he raised a hand to scratch his head, apparently his mohawk has been dissembled and now his hair was all over the place. As Vaas trailed his fingers over the scar on his head he was struck by the fogged memory of yesterday's delusion.

Closing his eyes Vaas breathed in deep recalling the hauntingly familiar smell, and the feeling under his hands as they grasped at a warm an pliant body pulling it closer and burying his face in the warmth and safety. He couldn't recall a face, or why he was acting as he was but the feeling was amazing and he would kill quite a few people to experience it again. Opening his eyes, he looked around one more time. As his glance swiped through the room once more it lingered on the table. Slowly a grin formed on the pirate's face. Swiftly getting up, Vaas jumped into his boots, threw on the belts and buckled his pants. Spending a minute on bandaging his fingers, the man grabbed the red apple and his favorite gun, and strolled out of the building.

-Carlos! Get the knives, the nets, the guns! We're going hunting! Gonna catch us a princess and have a wedding! Vamonos, Hermano! I want my bride to be here by sunset!


End file.
